


1870

by Stark-N-Barnes (StarSpangledBucky)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Concussions, Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff, Hockey, Hockey Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NHL, Stanley Cup, Swearing, hockey players
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/Stark-N-Barnes
Summary: Tony comforts Steve after he gets checked at a game, leaving him with a concussion which halts his opportunity to play in the Stanley Cup finals.





	1870

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tony Stark Bingo
> 
> Square A3 - Free
> 
> (Both hockey teams are made up and ones I used in another hockey AU I did)

_ Six minutes. _

The  _ New York Wolves _ were tied 3-3 in their game against the  _ Boston Pumas,  _ fighting for a chance to get into the Stanley Cup final against Dallas. There was six minutes left on the clock, if they couldn’t earn another goal, perhaps they could keep it tied, at least then they had a chance during overtime. Tony was skating across the ice, swiftly weaving past Boston players to carry the puck closer to the Pumas net. He spotted their captain, Steve out of the corner of his eye, waiting to have the puck passed to him. He pulled his hockey stick back, swung it, hit the puck with the right amount of force, and sent gliding across the ice to Steve. But it was short lived. 

Out of nowhere, the Pumas tallest player, Ahlström, checked Steve heavily from the side. Steve hit the boards, hard, his head smacking against them with blunt force, before his body crumpled to the ice. The Wolves fans booed and the linesman blew the whistle to stop play, as other members of Tony’s team stopped to see what had happened. Tony stopped abruptly beside Steve, then circled him, before kneeling down to look at him. He’d witnessed Steve’s head hit the boards at an awkward angle, heard the sound when it connected with Ahlström’s shoulder, it was bad. When he stared down at Steve, he had a dazed and vacant look on his face, like he wasn’t even there.

“Rogers?” 

Steve murmured something incoherent, causing Tony to breath out shakily, resting his gloved hand on the blonde’s chest. 

“Stay down buddy, don’t move.”

All the signs signalled a concussion, making Tony feel a little sick to his stomach. He could hear yelling around him, mostly for their head trainer, before he glanced over to see Bucky helping Stephen along the ice. Tony moved back when Stephen arrived, letting him work on Steve, whose skin was a sickly pale colour. 

“Do you feel dizzy Steve?” 

Steve opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out.

“Squeeze my hand for yes.” 

He squeezed Stephen's hand.

“What about nausea? Headache?” 

“Real bad headache, think I might throw up,” Steve wavered.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief when Steve started talking.

“Okay, we need to get him off the ice, I need to examine him further,” Stephen stated. “Tony, help me? And someone else too please,” he added.

“Wilson! Over here!” Tony called.

Sam passed his stick to Bucky, then skated over to Steve's left side, Tony on the right. They helped Steve up off the ice, keeping him steady, even when his legs buckled under him. He was shaky on his feet, like a newborn calf, but managed to use slow steps, with Tony and Sam supporting him. Bucky brushed his hand over Steve's shoulder as a gesture of comfort, while their remaining team rhythmically tapped their sticks against the board at their bench. The fans clapped from the stands, obviously thrilled to see that Steve was still conscious. It didn't settle the uneasy feeling in the pit of Tony's stomach though. 

“We’ll win this for you Steve,” Sam said.

Steve smiled weakly.

“I'm definitely gonna’ throw up, big time maybe in someone’s hockey bag,” he muttered.

Tony chuckled softly at the fact that Steve still had some humour in him, as they finally reached the tunnel and handed Steve over to Stephen’s care. Steve's hand was cold on Tony's when he grasped it, until he let go, the weight of his hand leaving an emptiness in the brunette's chest. It would be okay, Steve  _ had  _ to be alright, if they win they'd be going to the finals. And the finals would be nothing without Steve, Tony needed his  _ C _ beside him. Yet, going by Steve's state after being checked, it didn't look like it'd be good news at all. Sam clapped his hand on Tony's shoulder, while they went back to speak to their team.

“Hey man, he's gonna’ be fine. He's strong, we just need to kick ass now,” he encouraged.

Tony nodded.

“Yeah, I know. But...Sam he couldn't even speak. If he's concussed, and it's bad, he's out. He'll be devastated,” he sighed.

“Not much we can do but hope. And you gotta’ take charge.” 

Sam was right, Tony was Steve's  _ A, _ he had to call the shots and get the team back into the swing of things. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Thor coming onto the ice to replace Steve, sporting a slight frown on his face. Tony knew Thor didn't like seeing teammates get hurt, but Steve was the one he got along with the most, so it was extra horrible for him. 

“You fuckin’ piece of shit, Ahlström!” 

The roar of the crowd, signalled Tony to turn around in time to see Brock throwing his gloves on the ground, with Ahlström following suit. 

“Goddammit,  _ Rumlow! _ ” 

Fists went flying, as Brock laid into Ahlström, despite being shorter, he was a fighter, always had been. Tony watched on, before reaching out to grab Karpov, pairing up with him so that he wouldn't get involved. The other Wolves followed his example and paired off with someone from the opposing team, allowing the linesmen to deal with the scuffle. It didn't last long, but Brock had left Ahlström bleeding, much to the crowds enjoyment, which was when the fight ended. Tony couldn't blame him, but the alternate captain side of him still gave Brock a look of annoyance, even when he smiled smugly in return. Both he and Ahlström were sent to the penalty box, thus, prompting Clint to jump in for him. It was just another shitty situation he had to deal with.

_ But he'd fight through it for Steve... _

* * *

“They told me he went home after going to the hospital, but they wouldn’t discuss his condition.”

_ “Shit, I sent him a text to tell him we won, I dunno’ if he saw it though.”  _

“If it's a concussion he won't be allowed to look at his phone.” 

_ “True. I hope he's okay.”  _

“I'll make sure he's okay Barnes, don't worry.” 

_ “Thanks Tony. I’m going out to drink with Sam. See you later?”  _

“Sure. Let everyone know that I'm sorry I can't be there to celebrate.” 

_ “I will. They'll understand.”  _

“Thanks buddy.” 

_ “Bye.”  _

Tony sighed deeply after hanging up on his call with Bucky, his hands white knuckling the steering wheel, whenever he felt tension wash over him. They'd won the game in overtime, thanks to a hat trick by Thor, sealing their place in the final. While he was excited about the thought of them being Stanley Cup champions, it didn't ease his worry about Steve. The hit he took still played fresh in Tony's mind, a never ending loop of Steve falling to the ice and laying motionless, his body angled awkwardly. He'd seen plenty of his teammates take hits, but he'd never seen one like Steve's, like he was simply a crash test dummy. Everyone else had gone out to celebrate, but Tony wasn’t one of them, Steve was the only important thing on his mind right now. 

He turned down the familiar stretch of road to Steve’s house, his grip loosening slightly on the wheel, fingers drumming lightly against it. Steve would invite him to his house quite often, more than anybody else on the team, as if Tony were special. In a way it felt like that, Tony knew they had some sort of connection, something far away from a friendship basis. They hadn’t acted on it, which was their only dilemma, but the more time they spent with each other, the greater that connection became. Tony simply waited for signs, ones that would indicate that he could make a move, show Steve how much he meant to him. But right now that wasn’t his main focus, he wanted to take care of Steve, because he knew he would be hurting. Tony would be his friend first, yet his lover later. 

Once he’d slowed down to pull into the driveway at Steve’s house, relief washed over him to see his captain’s car there. The hospital didn’t tell him if Steve was discharged or not, another frustrating concept of not being  _ ‘close family’ _ or a  _ ‘spouse’. _ Maybe he’d suggest to Steve that they fake being married, so that they could both find out things if one of them ended up in the hospital. Tony shook his head with a laugh at the thought, before killing the engine on his car, his hand reaching out to grab the bag of food on the passenger side. It was still reasonably warm, consisting of soups and anything light that Steve would be able to keep down. Tony knew from a concussion of his own, when he was in college, that sometimes keeping food down was a tough task. 

Steve’s dog, Bonnie, spotted Tony walking up to the front door, barked twice, then disappeared to the back of the house. Tony chuckled and fished his key out of his pocket, the one Steve had given him months ago, like he could call it  _ his _ home too. He toed his shoes off, leaving them outside, as he ventured into the hallway that lead to the open living room and kitchen. There was the faint sound of the TV playing in the background, until the click of skittering claws on the wooden floors drowned it out. 

“Hey sweetpea,” Tony whispered, crouching down to scratch Bonnie behind the ear.

Bonnie’s tail thumped against the floor, while she leaned into Tony’s touch, her nose twitching rapidly to sniff him out. 

“Is Steve through there? Huh? Let’s go, good girl,” he said, pushing himself back up to his feet.

Tony followed Bonnie through to the kitchen, depositing the bag of food on the counter, where his eyes fell on the couch. The room was dimly lit, with the curtains drawn to keep out the remaining afternoon sun, limiting Tony's view to find Steve. But the hushed sound of someone sniffing caught his attention, his head turning towards the couch closest to him. Tony approached the back of the couch and peered over it, seeing Steve stretched across the length of it, his arm resting loosely over his eyes. Steve's bottom lip was trembling, as he breathed in sharply, rubbing at his eyes when a tear threatened to spill out.

“Steve?” 

Steve flinched, then moved his arm up slightly, his gaze locking with Tony's.

“Hey,” he answered, dragging his hand down his face.

Tony smiled softly.

“How are you feeling?” 

Steve's eyes welled up immediately, prompting Tony to walk around the couch, before sitting on the edge of it. 

“Talk to me,” he mumbled.

“It's a concussion,” Steve replied.

“And?” Tony said.

Steve swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can go back on the ice. The doctor said to keep an eye on my symptoms, then to go see her in a few weeks to check my progress, and we’ll work from there.”

Tony rested his hand on Steve’s knee.

“I’m sorry Steve.”

Steve clenched his hands tightly.

“Did we win?”

Tony’s gaze fell to the floor, as he squeezed Steve’s knee gently.

“ _ Tony, _ ” Steve sighed.

“Yeah, Steve, we did. In overtime.”

Steve’s hand covered his eyes again, before a choked sob escaped his mouth, his shoulders shaking a little. Tony knew how much hockey meant to Steve, and how much it would upset him to be out of the finals for the Stanley Cup. Their team hadn’t made it to a Stanley Cup final in years, now that they had a chance to win it, Steve wouldn’t be there. Steve was their captain, which would be an incredible loss to have him on IR, given that he’d done so much to encourage the team to play their best. 

“If it makes you feel a little better...Rumlow made Ahlström bleed for checking you, he was pretty pissed,” Tony uttered.

Steve laughed wetly, then moved his hand away to stare at Tony, who’d tilted his head back up to look at him. 

“Remind me to thank him,” he murmured.

Tony grinned.

“I’ll text him,” he offered.

“It wasn’t too much for you was it? As alt captain?” 

Tony’s mouth twitched up at the corner.

“Not any different from that time when you were out because of bronchitis.”

Steve groaned.

“That was awful.”

He watched Tony relax further into the couch, their eyes never leaving each other.

“Bet a concussion feels worse.”

“Feels like someone’s hammering something inside my head. And the nausea comes and goes, I also can’t watch TV, so it’s just background noise, plus the lights have to stay dim ‘cause of light sensitivity. I’m also exhausted,” Steve explained.

“It’ll be like that for a little while Steve, you just need to rest, and make sure you keep your fluids up. Also make sure you eat, even if it’s something small.”

Steve pushed himself up against the cushions.

“I just-” he paused, abruptly.

Tony saw the colour drain from Steve’s face, throwing his reflexes into action, his hand reaching out to grab the bucket by the coffee table. He managed to get it held under Steve’s head in time, as the blonde grabbed the sides and threw up into it. His hand came up to Steve’s back, before he rubbed small circles to reassure Steve that he was there to help. Steve dry heaved once, then pulled his head up slowly, his eyes stinging with fresh tears. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony soothed.

He helped ease Steve into an upright position, his head still hanging over the bucket, just in case. 

“Thank you Tony.”

“I'm here to help Steve. You do a lot for everyone else, but never accept help in return. I'll stay here as long as you need, or drop by everyday. Whatever you want. Just know that you don't have to go through this on your own. I'm all in,” he assured him. 

Steve smiled tiredly.

“I'd like that. The help...I mean.” 

For a moment, it looked like Steve's cheeks were flushed pink, but Tony only registered it as a part of the effects from the concussion. Steve shifted in his place, then pushed himself up off the couch, wobbling slightly. Tony kept his hand on Steve's back to steady him, which earned him a thankful smile, until Steve walked towards the hallway.

“I'm gonna’ wash this bucket and let it dry. Maybe wash my mouth out too,” he said.

“Thank god, your breath stinks.” 

Steve snorted and disappeared into his bedroom where the ensuite was, leaving Tony alone in the room. Tony leant back against the couch, TV remote in hand, as he started flicking through the channels. He tried to concentrate on the screen, but all he could think about was Steve, it was always Steve. With a sigh, he left the TV on a music channel, then dropped his head back on the couch, his eyes fluttering closed for a minute. 

“Big day?” Steve called, from where he stood in the hallway.

Tony opened his eyes and turned his head towards Steve.

“You could say that. My captain got concussed, Rumlow got in a fight, then we fought in overtime to get another goal so we could go to the finals.” 

Steve slowly made his way back to the couch, exhaling deeply when he nestled back into the comfort of the cushions. 

“I wish I could be there to play.” 

Tony placed his hand on Steve's shoulder.

“We’ll win it, for you,” Tony reasoned.

“Yeah.” 

Steve hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to keep more tears at bay. He didn't see the point in it, Tony had already seen him this way.  _ Useless _ he thought to himself. Which only made him feel worse, the tightness in his chest barely subsiding, as another son wracked through his body. Tony slid closer to him and wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“Steve...c’mere,” he said.

He pulled Steve into a warm embrace, making sure not to hold him too tightly, his hand cupping the back of Steve's head. Steve leaned into the touch, face buried into Tony's neck, allowing himself to let all of his frustration out. His fingers tightened in the fabric of Tony's jersey, as he drew in a shaky breath, the thumping in his head subsiding a small amount. Tony' started combing his fingers through Steve's hair, feeling the light brush of scruff against his cheek from Steve's beard, his voice dropping into a whisper to comfort Steve.

“You're going to be there. Even if you can't play, you'll be there, and we’ll win. And I'll make sure you can come on the ice to hold the cup with me.” 

Steve nodded and held Tony tighter.

“I knew I made the right choice making you alternate captain,” he drawled.

“What do you mean?” 

“I didn't choose you because our coach said so. I picked you because I trusted you to lead the team. Tony, I knew I could rely on you if things ever got tough. You prove it again and again, when I was sick, or when I got frustrated with the team. You'd step in and put them in line. One day you're going to have a  _ C _ patched into your jersey, and I'm going to be  _ so  _ proud of you. ‘Cause you deserve it Tony, you do.  _ Fuck,  _ I'm rambling,” Steve huffed out.

Tony pulled back to cup Steve’s face in his hands, thumbs stroking over the junction between Steve’s jaw and ear. Steve slide his hand up to rest on Tony’s wrist, eyes darting down briefly to the brunette’s lips, then back up. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, as Tony leant forward, his breath ghosting over Steve’s skin.

“I  _ love _ when you ramble, Steve Rogers,” Tony hummed.

Then he kissed him, chastely at first, which Steve melted into immediately. His hand moved up to grasp Tony’s shoulder, drawing him closer, so that he could deepen the kiss. Their lips parted in sync through soft, gasping breaths, before Tony carefully pushed Steve down onto the couch. He teased his hand under the hem of Steve’s sweater, tongue darting out to taste a faint hint of mint on Steve’s, who let out a low moan. 

“Tony…”

They parted from the kiss, Tony staring down at Steve, with a wide grin on his face at the flush over Steve’s cheeks. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for awhile now,” he breathed out.

Steve smiled warmly.

“Me too.”

Tony chuckled and dropped his forehead down on Steve’s, careful not to bump it too hard, his hand still linger on the hem of the sweater.

“We should...maybe talk about this.”

“I could really use some food. So, talk later? ” Steve suggested.

“Really Rogers?”

Steve gave Tony a pleading look, his mouth verging on a pout.

“Food helps me think. Even if I do have a concussion,” he said.

Tony’s fingers pushed some hair away from Steve’s forehead, as he smiled tenderly at him.

“I just have one question,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“This won’t be one of those moments where we forget about it later, right? ‘Cause, Steve I  _ really _ like you,” Tony confessed.

Steve’s fingers brushed through the hair on the back of Tony’s head, before stopping on the nape of his neck.

“It won’t. We’ll work this out and just go slow. It’s just _ you _ and  _ me. _ ”

Tony sighed in relief, leaning in to kiss Steve again, until his stomach growled.

“Uh...okay, maybe food is a good idea.”

Steve laughed, but winced shortly after and rubbed his forehead.

“I shouldn’t laugh,” he sighed.

“I’m going to take care of you Steve, promise.”

“I know you will, I never doubted you,” Steve admitted.

As Tony attempted to move himself off of the couch. Steve grasped the front of Tony’s jersey, eyes narrowing at him, his thumb brushing over the  _ 18 _ .

“Is that  _ my _ jersey?”

It was Tony’s turn to flush a light shade of pink.

“I’m just borrowing it,” he replied.

“It suits you.”

“Thank you,” Tony chimed.

Steve worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Could you…” he paused, to swallow thickly. 

Tony smirked.

“What is it?”

Steve’s hand slid down to Tony’s lower back.

“Kiss me again, please?” Steve whispered.

Tony’s nose bumped against Steve’s, as he kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I’d be happy to, captain...”

* * *

The sound of the final buzzer echoed through the stadium, overshadowed by the deafening roar of Wolves fans in the crowd. Tony stood motionless on the ice, the sounds drowned out by his heavy breathing. He closed his eyes for a moment, then exhaled deeply, before opening his eyes to see his teammates barrelling towards him. Bucky slammed into him first for a celly, yelling in excitement and gripping Tony’s jersey tightly after throwing his gloves off. Sam, Brock, Rhodey and Thor followed soon after, the rest of the team still hopping over the boards to join them.

“We did it!” he shouted.

Tony looked over at him, eyes glistening with tears of joy, as he pulled Bucky in for a hug. 

“Fucking right we did!”

Bucky laughed loudly, then let go of Tony so that he could bring Sam in on the celebration, the three of them wrapped up in a group hug. Tony waved the others over, his hand coming out to grab Brock’s jersey and pull him into his side, jostling him excitedly.

“You did good Stark,” he said.

Tony grinned, tapping the back of Brock’s helmet with his fist, before he looked around to catch Rhodey’s gaze.

“Nah, we all did.”

Suddenly, the crowd got louder, drawing Tony’s attention away from his teammates, stopping near where the Wolves bench was. Steve was coming towards them, his arm looped through Zelenko’s arm to help him across the ice, a wide smile plastered on his face. Tony glanced up at the jumbotron, noticing that Steve was wearing a jersey with  _ Stark _ on the back, and Tony’s number  _ 70 _ on the sleeve. A blush spread from Tony’s cheek down to his neck, before he slipped away from everyone and skated over to Steve. 

“Hi.”

“You made it,” Tony answered.

“I watched the whole thing.”

Tony frowned.

“And you didn’t tell me,” he muttered.

Steve chuckled.

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” he hummed.

“How are you feeling?” 

“My sensitivity to light isn’t so bad anymore. Head still hurts, but I got the all clear from the doctor to come and watch you play,” Steve said.

Tony moved closer to Steve, his head tilted up to stare at him.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

As Steve was leaning in, Bucky and Sam appeared beside them, their hands clapping down on Steve’s shoulders.

“Hey man!” Sam exclaimed.

Tony bit down on his bottom lip to stifle a laugh at the annoyed look on Steve’s face, as he dropped his gaze to the ice.

“Oh, you were... _ oh _ ,” Bucky exhaled, while stealing a glance between Steve and Tony.

Sam smirked.

“You owe me twenty bucks Barnes,” he laughed.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“We’re gonna’ have a serious talk about wagers between the team when I get back.”

Sam’s smirk widened.

“Sure Cap, whatever you say.”

After the pair skated away, Tony looked back at Steve, with an amused expression on his face.

“Like children,” he commented.

“Good thing we’re here to keep them in line.”

“Really? Because I’m sure you were about to kiss me instead,” Tony retorted.

“Was I?” Steve teased.

“C’mon Rogers, it’s not like no one knows about us yet.”

Steve cupped his hand on the back of Tony’s neck, coaxing him in until their lips met halfway for a tender kiss, while Tony’s fingers curled into the fabric of Steve’s jersey. They parted soon after, when the announcement was made that the Cup would be handed to Tony, prompting him to take Steve’s hand in his.

“Hold it with me?”

Steve’s eyes lit up.

“Okay,” he replied.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your Stanley Cup champions of 2019, the New York Wolves!”

When Steve lifted to Cup above his head, he had Tony by his side, his team circled around them, and the thunderous applause of their fans. Even when he couldn’t be there to play, nothing took away the fact that they’d won.

_ And that was good enough for him. _


End file.
